“I’m GLAD,” said Faith. “I’d hate to think the Methodists were better at going to Sunday School on rainy Sundays than the Presbyterians. But there’s no preaching in their Church to-day, either, so likely their Sunday School is in the afternoon.”
Una washed the dishes, doing them quite nicely, for so much had she learned from Mary Vance. Faith swept the floor after a fashion and peeled the potatoes for dinner, cutting her finger in the process.
“I wish we had something for dinner besides ditto,” sighed Una. “I’m so tired of it. The Blythe children don’t know what ditto is. And we NEVER have any pudding. Nan says Susan would faint if they had no pudding on Sundays. Why aren’t we like other people, Faith?”